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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29937153">so THIS is what longing feels like</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherprince/pseuds/netherprince'>netherprince</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hollow Knight (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Colosseum of Fools (Hollow Knight), Flirting via Showing Off, Grimm Experiences The Consequences Of Attraction, Other, Self-Insert, Tumblr Prompt, fool is MY self insert/oc and I get to choose the pronouns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:21:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29937153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherprince/pseuds/netherprince</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Brumm,” he growls, then repeats the name until his musician hums in acknowledgement. “How, in the name of light and shadow, do bugs deal with this.”</p>
<p>“Master, I am not the Knight. I cannot read your mind.”</p>
<p>Grimm glares at his supposed friend out of the corner of his eye. “I want to watch it dance for the rest of my life, and yet I also want to take it back to my tent and wrap it in the finest silks in Hallownest.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>in which grimm is, for once, the admirer before he is the admired</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grimm/Fool, Grimm/Original Vessel, Quirrel/Fool, Quirrel/Original Vessel, with a hint of - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>so THIS is what longing feels like</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>prompted by my friend rae and then it got way far away from me</p>
<p>ghost uses they/them, fool uses it/its. someone told fool vessels were referred to like with it/its to make them sound like weapons and it was like 'damn right i am'</p>
<p>(sorry for anyone who was hoping this world be an update on my other works i do not get to choose the inspiration)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grimm isn’t always one to show up to the rituals of other bugs, but when a personalized invitation is laid at your feet, it’s hard for a god to just say no. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Godseekers knew this well, coaxing him into their shared dream with honeyed voices, and it seems the Colosseum’s vessel learned from their charming words. No flattery accompanies the slate that Brumm has brought him, only sharp words carved into the stone. If Grimm didn’t know that Fool values its nail over all other possessions, he would have accused it of using its weapon to scratch the words down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘<strong>grimm</strong>,’ the invitation starts, blunt as a fist, ‘<strong>colosseum of fools. audience for third trial. tonight.</strong>’ He can’t help but raise an eyebrow when he feels more grooves on the back, and he turns it over to reveal a single word, a ‘<em>please</em>?’ that he can only imagine was added with much gnashing of fangs. Fool isn’t known for its politeness, unless one is to count an offer of swift death as polite. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Brumm,” Grimm rasps, and smiles as his loyal musician hums his attention. “It seems we have plans for the night. Inform the troupe that they are welcome to accompany us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Us?” Oh, that surprise won’t do. Grimm rests a hand between Brumm’s horns, the sharp edges of his smile smoothing to something closer to kindness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want to come, then you’re certainly welcome. I thought you might appreciate the night away, but if you’d rather something else, my friend..?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brumm shakes his head, just light enough not to dislodge the warm hand. “Hrn… No, master. I only thought… It is your paramour. I thought you would want a <em>private</em> showing.” His mask hides the teasing smile, but Grimm is not so blind to rely only on the faces of his troupe. With a chuckle, he taps his knuckles on the cloth before withdrawing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not believe Fool is one to mix business and pleasure in such a way, no. Go, leave me to my own preparations. And, Brumm, my friend,” he adds as Brumm turns to leave, “Please limit your gossip with Divine to only <em>mildly</em> embarrassing me. One likes to pretend he has some level of dignity.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mask does even less to hide the smile this time, Brumm’s voice rich with laughter as he waves away the words. “Of course, master. Our minds are yours to command.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If <em>only</em> that were true,” Grimm rasps, twisting on his heel with a theatrical scoff. Brumm’s quiet chuckling does nothing to soothe his poor bruised ego.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Night is, of course, a relative thing in the decaying kingdom. With the Wyrm scarpered to some unknown place, there isn’t as much a growing light throughout the ‘day’ as there is a deepening shadow as ‘night’ draws closer. The void in the air brings a slight chill, but it’s not nearly enough to dissuade Grimm. A lush scarf is more than sufficient to block out the encroaching cold, and Grimm adjusts it so as to not crumple the frill of his cloak as he walks past ashen drifts. Signs of the troupe’s attendance dot the landscape, giggling Grimmkin wedging their torches amongst the dead Blackwyrm’s claws, small stands hawking delicacies from dead lands that only grow quiet when Grimm walks past them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ghost waves to him from one of these booths, their shared child bundled up in their cloak as they place Geo on the shellwood counter. Grimm narrows his eyes ever so slightly at the Nightmare holding a pouch of sparkdust, and she nods quickly, pushing away the larger Geo before she offers the satchel. The little Grimmchild pushes his face in the sparkdust as soon as Ghost takes it, cackling with glee when the sweet-spicy powder ignites on his jaws. Grimm smiles and tilts his head in amusement, then continues on his way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he enjoys Ghost’s company, they aren’t his focus tonight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Little Fool is swaying rapidly in his chains, causing them to rattle nonstop. Someone has placed fire blossoms between the links, and they cast a soft pink light on the entry hall, drowning out the pale glow leftover from the shed ashes. “Oh! Welcome, your majesty! Are you here to prove yourself to Lord Fool?” he squeaks, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Some of your troupe have already placed their marks, but there’s certainly room for one as esteemed as you!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Grimm chuckles, dipping into a bow with a flourish. “I’m afraid we’re here to witness, not participate. I was invited by Fool itself..?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Judging by the way his antennae droop, Little Fool already knew. “Of course, of course,” he says with false cheer, “it must have slipped my mind!” His tone brightens again, though, pride seeping in. “It <em>did</em> ask me to reserve you a seat by our Lord, that’s right! If you just turn up the stairs over there, you’ll find your way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there a chance we might see Fool before taking our place, hmm?” Grimm smiles, expecting an easy admittance, and that only makes it more jarring when Little Fool shakes his head so hard he has to kick his feet to stay upright.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, certainly not! It never takes guests before a fight. I could make an exception if you wanted to participate,” he says quickly, only to wilt when Grimm scoffs. “Then no. You will have to watch like the rest of the… <em>Noncombatants</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t escape Grimm’s notice that the word leaves a foul aftertaste in Little Fool’s mouth. He just shrugs, for all the world looking like the pinnacle of indifference, despite the disappointment at not getting to personally wish Fool luck. “As you say then, good friend.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If he gives Little Fool just slightly too hard a pat to send him spinning in his chains… Well, everyone misjudges their strength from time to time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The stands are filled to overflow by the time Grimm settles in his seat. Bugs from all walks of life crowd the seats, chattering so loudly it almost drowns out Brumm’s music. Brumm himself is sitting next to a pillbug Grimm has seen before, his accordion groaning out the notes faithfully regardless of the change in venue. There’s an empty seat beside the pair, one marked with more fireblossoms than all the rest scattered about. Taking his seat puts him directly beside Lord Fool’s decaying corpse, and Grimm decides to be thankful all the smell has long since rotted away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hrm, Master… Cutting it close.” It’s as close to a scolding as Brumm will give him, and Grimm just laughs and waves his hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m only ever fashionably late, and even I know when I am not the star of the show, my friend.” Grimm peers around at the crowd, and is startled to see Fool’s mask in the stands. And then another. And another, and another, until he realizes that they are made of carved bone and paper, not the natural curves of Fool’s shell. “Ah- Oh, I see, Fool has… Fans?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that a surprise, Troupe Master?” The pillbug asks, his eyes narrowed behind his own mask. Grimm notices his hand tense on his longnail, and can’t help but smirk when recognition hits him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Scholar Quirrel, how very nice to see you again. A surprise, hm? Yes and no, I’d say. No, because it’s truly talented with its nail, but yes, because I wasn’t aware the common bugs of Hallownest had such good taste. Tell me, how long did it take for Monomon to realize she attached her Archives to a false light?” Grimm can only smirk all the wider when Quirrel clutches his nail tighter, but he’s surprised when the grip relaxes, the pillbug breaking into a low laugh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My memory has not served me well recently, but I seem to recall you were once fond of that false light yourself.” Brumm snorts at Quirrel’s words, and Grimm joins in the laughter only a heartbeat later.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I suppose those in crystal houses should not throw stones. A pleasure to see you again, Scholar,” Grimm says, letting the teasing edge fall away from his voice. “I’m glad to see we both have chosen a better Fool to admire.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quirrel tugs on his headscarf for a moment before he begins to respond, but is interrupted by the sounds of great drums kicking into life. The crowd breaks into a roar as the drums beat like the heart of this place, like the Blackwyrm never truly died, only changed to swallow the corpses of the broken fools long before they stop breathing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Around the stands, the Troupe crackle with crimson light, drawing their own instruments from the Nightmare to add to the mounting dread. Strings match the drums note for note, chanting rising to fill the spaces in between the beats. Grimm can only lean forward and smile viciously, feeling the crowd shift from being the Lord Fool’s to </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>, exhilarated terror seeping into the air so thickly he swears he can taste it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a beat that reverberates through the entire Colosseum, the crowd drawing in a breath as one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A beat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A beat.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The gates slide open with a wail, and Grimm’s heart stops even as the crowd collectively loses its fucking mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fool strides across the fossilized ground in even, easy steps, nail twirling in its hand. In the center of the arena, it stops amidst flowers that have been tossed around it, fireblossom petals drifting through the air to cast their hungry light on its shell. It tilts its head up and back in what’s undeniably pride, eyes locking on Grimm’s own. It lowers into a deep bow, never once looking away, not even as cages raise themselves from below the floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The contact only breaks when Fool whips its nail to the side, neatly tearing through a heavily armored bug. Grimm realizes something as it dashes and weaves through growing crowds of enemies, sending bugs flying only to close the distance with the point of its nail.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fool has been holding back during their dances.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even when hits land- and they <em>do</em> land, either by nail or lance or sprays of acid- it merely presses into the attacks, never once hesitating. It uses its void tendrils to fling itself from one end of the room to the other, once tearing entirely through an oblobble, leaving their mate to scream in fury and up the attack. It twirls around each drop of acid, but Grimm can only see it dashing the same way around his conjured spikes, deceptively effortless.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His fists clench tightly in his lap, nails digging into the softer palms until he has to hiss and shift his grip to the railing, heedless of the crimson blood that drips down the wrought metal. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Brumm,” he growls, then repeats the name until his musician hums in acknowledgement. “How, in the name of light and shadow, do bugs deal with this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Master, I am not the Knight. I cannot read your mind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Grimm glares at his supposed friend out of the corner of his eye. “I want to watch it dance for the rest of my life, and yet I also want to take it back to my tent and wrap it in the finest silks in Hallownest.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Brumm laughs, “You are longing for the Fool Vessel, hm?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what longing feels like? I’d rather go back to being the target of it than the victim.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Grimm can’t even bring himself to sulk when both Quirrel and Brumm laugh at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Between waves, Fool has pinned the reddest fireblossom on the field to its cloak, and it pauses in its dance only long enough to blow him a kiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe longing isn’t quite so bad.</span>
</p>
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